


Three Become One

by moneill0775



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Car Sex, Casual Sex, Clubbing, Depression, Dom Alexander Hamilton, Dom Marquis de Lafayette, Dom/sub, Dorms, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Grinding, Library Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamorous Alexander Hamilton, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, So many tags..., Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moneill0775/pseuds/moneill0775
Summary: Quatervois: (noun), a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one's life.Vivian Rice is a senior, a Resident Assistant, a sociology major, and is in denial about her depression. She's been friends with Lafayette and Alexander since they moved onto her first hall almost three years ago, and they have been following her to whichever residence hall she goes ever since. Vivian was diagnosed with depression as a senior in high school, but she never sought therapy or medication for it, instead choosing to try to cope through her unhealthy habit of having casual sex with multiple partners, no STD testing, and sometimes no condoms. Alex and Laf have been trying to look out for her, but then she decides on her thesis topic: the affects of polyamory on society.





	1. Chapter One

              It was a gray space. Somewhere in between having sex for love and having sex for cash, there was having sex just to have sex. It was not meant to be passionate and loving; it was meant to be quick and dirty. Maybe a little rough, always with no strings attached, condoms were a possibility, and never more than five times with the same guy to prevent an attachment. That was the way it was supposed to be, complete with all the sweat and sloppy sounds that came with a quick hook-up. It was supposed to be me bent over and hanging onto a shelf for dear life. It was supposed to be a guy that I had no feelings towards in any way fucking into me from behind. It was supposed to be this way.

              No feelings, no extras, nothing to get caught up in besides sex.

              The guy I was with finished earlier than usual, at least in comparison to the other two times we had hooked up. He pulled out with a wet sound and a groan as he squirted out onto the floor of the janitorial closet we had garnered for ourselves. Our panting was most evident in the tight space. I didn’t even know if he had locked the door behind him. It didn’t matter anyway; we had already done the deed.

              My legs ached as I stretched up and snagged a roll of paper towels. I pulled off a couple and handed it to JR without looking at him. I quickly wiped myself off, grunting as I pulled up my panties and shorts. I could feel his eyes on me and I let out a breath as I turned to him.

             “What?”

             He looked embarrassed as he shook his head. “Nothing.”

            “Was it not good?” I asked. I started to pull my short hair into a simple half-up, half-down hairdo.

            “It’s not that, Vivian,” he said. “I just- “

            “Just what?”

            “Is it ever anything other than this?” he questioned. JR looked hesitant as he buckled his belt.

            It was a damn good thing that the light wasn’t turned on in that closet because the look of irritation on my face would have sent him running. Why did it have to be anything else? Why couldn’t it just be this: a hook-up?

            “Does it need to be something else?” I asked, opening the door with a soft creak.

            I didn’t give him time to respond before I walked out of the closet. The janitor gave me a look as she passed me with the mop bucket, but I didn’t acknowledge her. Her sigh echoed in the hallway when the door opened again, and JR hurried out, too. I wondered if she was used to other students doing that as well.

            He followed me, and kept trying to talk to me, but I ignored him. His words were even coming out as gray; they were neither here, nor there. It was drabble, a blur, that space in between the black and white. Sometimes that grey space was worth it, like a dark storm cloud ready to rain on you, but other times, to be there was to be of boredom, stuck in a fog and leading to nowhere. That was exactly where this conversation was going. Absolutely nowhere.

            I stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to him, pointing my finger at him accusingly. “Look, I never promised anything but sex out of this. If you decided to look further into this than that, that is not my problem.”

            “I just thought that every girl wanted a relationship out of sex,” he attempted to explain.

            I rolled my eyes and turned away, flinging open the door to the stairwell. The damn elevator was still broken, so climbing up two flights of stairs was becoming my new everyday sort of thing. The stairwell echoed with my unhurried footsteps as I trudged up to my hall. The door opened below me, and I could hear JR practically running downstairs. I shook my head and exited the stairwell.

            My hall was the best-looking in our building, and that was not saying much. The walls were cinderblock covered in chipping blue paint, and the doors were old, some of them starting to splinter. No one had come running to me yet about needing help getting a splinter out. As the Resident Assistant for the fourth floor of Hood Hall, I was obviously the only one on my floor who was obligated to even bother to have a first aid kit.

            My room was halfway down the hall, the only room on the floor that was occupied by one person. The door had a small whiteboard on it for my residents to write messages on as well as paper donut with my name on it. The donut was brown, because chocolate was lifegiving, with a white frosting and rainbow sprinkles to top it. The key was slightly rusty, and a little bit bent out of shape, but it worked enough that the door opened with a little finagling.

            “Vivian, there you are!”

            I glanced over and smiled a little bit. “There are my two favorite residents!”

            “Are we not more than that, _mon chou_?” Gilbert du Motier Lafayette asked me, putting a hand over his chest and pouting slightly, as if he was hurt.

            Alexander Hamilton grinned and gave me a hug around the shoulders. “Of course we are, Laf. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

            “I would never deny it, boys,” I said, putting my hand on my hip and my free arm around Alex’s waist in a small semblance of a hug.

            These two had been my faithful residents for the past three years. They followed me to whatever hall I was assigned to at the start of the year and they stayed. I had known them since freshman year, where the two of them had exploded into my life in hues of color.

            Lafayette was a walking hue of purple, his voice coming out in lavenders and mauves, all soft and comforting. He was the milky warmth of a mother cat, drawing his friends close like little kittens to his belly. He suckled us on amethyst, on pinkie promises and calmness and that gentle look he gave when he knew you were lying. He was the purple of a late sunset, the promise of the end of a bad day and the start of a soothing night. Lafayette with his French accent and warm sweaters and loud laughter.

            If Lafayette was purple, all soothing words and touch, then Alexander was red. He was fire and passion and anger. His tongue was sharp, a whiplash tipped with coals. He had the gift of gab, as the Irish called it. He was more than willing to let blood flow in order to protect his friends and his beliefs. Alex was a volcano waiting to explode, as evidenced by the fierce debates that often happened in his classes between himself and professors and other students. He was like his heart, beating and pumping and fierce and alive.

            “You are going to lunch with us still, yes?” the Frenchman asked, looking at me expectantly.

            “Of course I am,” I reassured him, removing my arm from around Alex. “Let me just get changed, first.”

            I jammed my key into the lock and jiggled it quickly in an effort to open the door. Alex and Laf were speaking rapid-fire French behind me, a language that I had still not picked up despite being close to them. I pushed the door open with slight force and held it open for the two of them.

            “What should I wear?” I asked, opening the drawers in my small dresser to snag a new pair of underpants.

            “Does it really matter?” Alex asked.

            “To me, yes.”

            “Wear whatever makes you feel comfortable, Viv,” Lafayette said, sitting down on my bed while Alexander sat in my desk chair.

            I rolled my eyes a bit, but didn’t say anything, grabbing jean shorts and a white t-shirt and stepping into the bathroom to change. I could hear their murmured conversation, always in French, always when they did not want me to be able to understand whatever they were talking about. Maybe they were talking dirty to one another, I don’t know. They had been together since before they came here anyways, maybe they had mastered the art of being able to talk to one another about sex without others knowing what they were saying.

            Anyways, not my business.

            I stepped back out and dropped the panties I had been wearing into the trash can. They had felt like filth, burning against my skin. Alexander let out a chuckle as Lafayette arched an eyebrow.

            “Do they have a hole in them, _mon chou?_ ”

            I knew that French phrase, at least. It literally meant “my cabbage” or “my creampuff,” depending on the context. Alexander had used it in the condescending way, sometimes. In the way that Laf used it, though, it meant “sweetie,” according to him.

            “No, Laf,” I said, pulling on my sandals. “They just felt weird.”

            “Who was it this time?” Alexander asked me, his smile weary and his hands clenched on his legs.

            “JR. He wanted something more, or at least he thought he did…”

            “He might ‘ave wanted something more,” Laf tried to reason.

            “I don’t care if he did,” I shot back at him. “I didn’t want something more. Also, that boy doesn’t know what the fuck he wants. He keeps going back and forth between me and Maria. Now, he can at least choose her.”

            Laf looked perplexed. “You did not want something more?”

            Alexander stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, saying teasingly, “Our Vivian isn’t into that kind of thing, Laf. You know that.”

            “He wasn’t even that good of a fuck,” I grumbled, letting what little hair I had out of the small do I had it in.

            “Then why fuck him in the first place?”

            “Sex is still sex, no matter where you get it from,” I replied, as if talking to children. “As long as you have two consenting adults, you are in the clear.”

            “Yes, we know that,” Alexander said. “But why him?”

            I shrugged. “I was bored, I guess. I just needed someone to fool around with. I don’t know! Why is this so important, anyways?”

            “Curiosity, I suppose,” he responded.

            I flipped him off as I grabbed my purse, to which he responded so maturely by sticking out his tongue. Lafayette was chuckling quietly, shaking his head at us. He held onto Alex’s hand as we headed out. Luckily, being seniors, we had a better parking lot than those freshmen who were lucky enough to be allowed a car on campus. And by better parking lot, I meant it was only a fifteen-minute walk in comparison to having to park across campus.

            Somehow, they shared a car. I do not know how that is possible, but it was probably made all the more realistic by the fact that they did almost everything together. Working on campus probably minimized the need to drive separately as well. Their car was slightly worse for wear, but it was still running. It was a 2006 Honda Civic, dark gray, four doors, and a nice dent in the back bumper from a fender bender last year. They had never bothered to have it fixed, claiming that it was some kind of battle scar that only added to the car.

            I took my traditional seat in the back while the boys sat up front, hands still held together on the center console. They were sweet in their own way, sometimes so sickly sweet it felt like I was choking on sugar. Lafayette was rubbing a circle on Alex’s hand with his thumb as he started the car, Alex chattering away about his new thesis advisor, Dr. Washington. Too many ideas circled through Alexander’s mind, clogging up the exit ways in their effort to get out. I had no idea how he was going to focus on a topic for his thesis paper, but him working in the library with research assistants was definitely going to be in his favor.

            “What are you doing for your thesis, Viv?” Alexander turned his head to look at me.

            “I don’t know,” I replied. “Maybe death.”

            “Is death a part of your major?”

            “Death is a part of society,” I said. “Society is the basis of sociology. It is the end of every person, and every society has a different way of dealing with the dead.”

            “But, why death?” Laf asked, glancing at me in the mirror.

            “Sheesh, you two are full of questions today,” I griped at them. I leaned back, buckling myself up as an afterthought. “We will all die one day. A paper on ritualistic practices regarding the dead is nothing.”

            “But- “

            “Oh my god, you two.”

            The ten-minute drive downtown was silent after that. Thank god for it. I leaned my forehead against the window, watching the shops pass by. When Lafayette parked his car outside of one of the local bars, The Patriot, I didn’t move. I felt like I was made of lead weights, holding me down on the ocean floor. I hadn’t even noticed that they had already gotten out of the car until my door was open and my head fell forward a little bit. I jerked it back sharply, just as I noticed that Alexander was holding out his hand towards me. It dropped quickly as I sat up.

            “Vivian?”

            “Are you alright?”

            They both spoke at once. I held up a hand, silently pleading for them to just stop for a second so I could think. I bit my lip, my eyes stinging as I held them closed before I let out a shaky breath. I unbuckled myself and put my feet on the ground just outside the car. One hand clutched the door and the other held on tightly to my purse. They waited patiently in front of me, Laf even bending down to be of a more similar height to the rest of us.

            “Viv…” he murmured.

            I swallowed. “I’m fine.”

            I managed a smile of sorts and stood up fully. I pushed past the two of them and headed inside The Patriot. Laf and Alex were talking in heated French behind me. I rubbed my forehead, hoping that the bartender could recommend something stronger than the usual.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

                  It turned out that Moonshine was on the menu today, one ten dollar shot that was almost one hundred and sixty proof. Eighty percent alcohol in that small shot glass, and that would be all I would be drinking for the day. It was just something else for me to use to forget. I was waiting at the bar for the Moonshine, having left the guys at the table for a moment. When I returned with the alcohol, they got quiet.  
                   “Is there a problem?” I asked them, glancing between the two of them,  
                   Lafayette hesitated while Alexander cut in, “Are you okay, Vivian?”  
                   “I’m fine.”  
                   “But what happened out there – “  
                   “Alex, you of all people would know that it’s okay to be caught in your own mind sometimes.”  
                   “We were jus’ worried for you, Viv,” Lafayette said quietly. He reached over and gently ran his fingertips over the back of my hand. I didn’t pull away from it.  
                    I tried to smile at them but failed utterly. “I…I think I’m fine.”  
                    Lafayette narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers along the bones in my fingers.  
                   “Did you ever go to the counseling center?” Alex asked, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation.  
                    “I was really busy last semester, Alexander,” I said, pulling my hand back from Laf’s fingers. “I didn’t have the time.”  
                    “You should have made the time, Vivian.”  
                    I bit my lip, resisting the urge to smack my hands against the table and tell him to mind his own damned business. Lafayette watched me worriedly for a moment before he rested his hand on Alex’s and squeezed.  
                    “Come on, Alex,” he said. “Let us talk of something else, yes?”  
                    He let out a deep breath and watched me for a moment before he nodded and smiled bitterly. I could see it in his eyes, the way he was holding back his tongue, the forge it was creating in his mouth. Alexander would keep letting that fire build and build until it backfired, and it blew up. When he blew up, it never ended well. It was like a volcano: you would get the forecast, you would see the signs, but you could still not imagine the devastation it would reign down on you.  
                    “What classes are you taking this semester, Viv?” Lafayette asked, trying to open up the conversation.  
                    “My thesis course, a history course, and a sociology of the family course,” I said. I tapped my fingers on the table.  
                    Alex’s hand twitched as he watched my hand move and I curled my fingers inward to try and stop the tapping. I looked down at the table as the bartender brought us some pub food; a heart attack in sandwich form, the fried grilled cheese sandwich with a side of French fries and a pickle.  
                    “They aren’t even French,” Lafayette grumbled. He picked one up and inspected it grumpily.  
                     I snorted and picked up a French fry for myself, poking him with it. “Don’t worry, Laf. You will always be my frenchiest fry.”  
                    Alexander laughed good-naturedly as I took a bite of the fry. Laf pouted a little bit before he ate his own fry. I split the fried sandwich in two, giving one half for the boys to share.  
                    “Still cannot believe that you two didn’t order your own food,” I said. The sandwich was grease and heaven in my mouth.  
                    “We already ate a little before we came here, Viv.”  
                    “Excuses,” I muttered around the sandwich in my mouth.  
                    “Just eat your sandwich, Vivian Rice,” Alex ordered me. He took a huge bite out of his half of the sandwich, giving the rest to Lafayette.  
                    Always sharing everything: beds, food, maybe even other men and women. My brow furrowed; why should I even care if they were fucking other women? It was not my business anymore than it was their business regarding my fucking other men. Granted, they still tried to make it their business, but I tried to reason with myself that it was just my friends trying to look out for me.  
                    I found myself stuck in my own head, wandering around the recesses of my mind in a daze. I don’t think the boys tried to talk to me, or if they did, I did not hear them. It was like being stuck in a swarm of bees: it was all around me, and I was struggling futilely to shake myself of the thoughts that flew around and stung at me. I tried to swat them away, but they just kept attacking. And attacking. And attacking.  
                   “Hey. Hey, Vivian, are you okay?”  
                   “I’m fine.”

~~~~

* * *

 

 

                     It was as if the universe just did not want me to survive the last year of school. Classes had started less than three days ago, and I was already being called in to talk to my thesis professor about my proposal. Dr. Charles Lee, one of the newly-tenured professors, was this semester’s thesis coordinator for the Sociology department.      Barely skating by, if you asked me; he was practically helpless in every conceivable way.  
                     And this impossible human being did not like my idea for my thesis.  
                     “It just seems so, so…gory,” he complained, staring down at my proposal. I had gone ahead and submitted the idea of doing my paper on death rituals.  
                      I swallowed back a sigh. “Death is not supposed to be pretty, but because there are so many misguided interpretations about-”  
                     “You are not writing your paper on this.”  
                     “It’s my thesis paper,” I protested. “I can write it on what I want.”  
                     “I am your thesis advisor,” Dr. Lee countered. “And that means that if I think your thesis won’t succeed in its intended goal, then I can advise you to change it.”  
                     “But I don’t have to change it.”  
                    “If you don’t change it, I will not let it pass this class.”  
                    “You can’t do that!” I said sharply, standing up, nearly knocking over the chair in the small office.  
                    “Sit down, Ms. Rice,” he said quietly, glaring at me.  
                    I glared back at him and sat down, crossing my arms over my chest to keep myself from reaching over the desk and strangling the life out of him.  
                    “Now, have you considered trying to do something related more towards the modern times?” he asked, looking back down at my proposal.  
                    “Such as?”  
                    “I don’t know, maybe gay marriage or civil rights,” he offered, glancing over at me.  
                     I shrugged. I just wanted to get out of there at that point. “I can look into it.”  
                     “Good.” He handed me back my graded proposal. I had to stop myself before I snatched it out of his fingers.  
                    “Thanks,” I muttered, hefting my backpack over my shoulder as I quickly left his office.  
                    “I expect your new proposal before class next week!”  
                     I threw my hands up in the air and kept walking, side stepping a couple of other students who were walking down the hall. Asshole! He was going to screw me out of my thesis and the completion of my college degree. Almost half of the class was doing their thesis on the LGBT community; was he trying to fail us all by having us do the  same thing? I couldn’t even think about that right now. My next class was waiting for me.  
                     Dr. Nartha Washington, the wife of Alexander’s Dr. George Washington, was teaching her very popular “Sociology of the Family” class. It was always full every semester, and since I was a senior this semester, I had gotten first choice for classes during scheduling last spring. I was trying my best to pay attention to her, but it was Syllabus day. The first two days of classes were always about the professor going over what they expected out of you this semester, ex cetera, ex cetera.  
                     I stared down at my notebook, taking quick notes and trying to pick out any words that I was paying attention to that I might be able to look up more about later. “Nuclear family” and “marriage customs” were the only two concepts that I had written down about halfway through the class.  
                    “Now, when we get about halfway through the semester, we will be doing a short unit on polygamy, polyandry, and polyamory…” The rest of her sentence faded away into the back of my mind.  
                     Polyandry and polyamory…what was that? I knew what polygamy was, or at the very least, I knew what the bad side of it was with the fundamentalist Christian group in Utah. I tried not to judge all polygamists in that way; there were goods and bads of everything, even men with multiple wives.  
I was lucky I was sitting in the back of the class, and even though I hated to do it, I slid my phone out and looked up the definitions, just wanting to know more. It was risky to do my thesis on a subject I knew little to nothing about, but I was willing to take a chance if it would get Lee off my back. It was also risky to use your phone in any class, but I was impatient at this point. The sooner I had an idea, the sooner I could get it down on paper.  
                     

                        _Polyandry_  
 _(noun) The practice or condition of having more than one husband at a time_  
                     

                       I wrote down the definition, my words barely legible to my own eyes. I just wanted to get down the definitions as quickly as possible before Mrs. Washington caught me on my phone in the middle of class.

                        _Polyamory_  
 _(noun) The practice or condition of participating simultaneously in more than one serious romantic or sexual relationship with the knowledge and                                                          consent of all partners_

                         My brow furrowed as I read the definition, my pen stilling over the page. I wondered offhandedly if Alex and Laf did this with other people, or if they just had one-night threesomes with others instead of opening their relationship up to more people. Once again, I found myself wondering why it was any of my business if I got on their asses about them being all up in my own sexual relationships all the time.  
                         Maybe you want to be a part of that, a secret part of my mind whispered.  
                         Even if I did want that, it would not happen. It couldn’t happen.  
                         I turned my phone screen off and looked up, noticing that Mrs. Washington had started a video, and that she was looking right at me while everyone else was watching the projector screen. I smiled sheepishly, and she shook her head, but looked at the computer screen with a little smile on her face. I let out a little breath and thanked whatever gods there might be that I had an understanding teacher who didn’t call me out in the middle of class.  
                         For the rest of class, I still wasn’t listening. Rather, I was sketching out an outline for my new thesis proposal, nothing confirmed yet, only possibilities. At the end of the page, I wrote simply:

                                                _A possible experiment?_


	3. Chapter Three

I had to take my time after class. I was afraid deep down to go back to my dorm room and see the boys with their door open just across the hall, waiting for me to get back. I had to sit, had to think. Had to think about fucking everything. What better place to think than the library?

I couldn’t even look at books on the subject of polyamory right now. I just had to sit and think and write and figure out what the fuck I was thinking about doing. I swallowed as I tapped my pen against my notebook, feeling my anxiety heighten slightly at the thought of even trying to figure this out.

I forced myself to breathe, to close my eyes and take a breath. I had to figure this out, had to figure this out. I opened my eyes slowly and looked down at the table. I closed my notebook, realizing that I had to figure out for myself, by myself, if this was what I wanted.

Did I want them? Want them both? They weren’t an experiment; I regretted writing that on the paper, but I didn’t know what else to call it. I doubted it would be a lasting relationship, that is why I labelled it an experiment. It was something that any good sociologist would try to do: input themselves into the situations that they are researching, become a part of that community, maybe even participate in certain rituals. But how would that apply to this?

To truly understand, I would have to involve myself in fully in that idea. I still couldn’t believe that I was thinking about this. I had no idea if Lafayette and Alex would even consider this. I didn’t pry into their sex lives, and they weren’t like me; so, for me to have assumed for so long that they had sex with others was obviously absurd. I was doing what sociologists were often accused of doing in the Western world: making traditions and rituals from other parts of the world seem barbaric because they aren’t the same as the West.

I am an idiot, I thought to myself, holding my face in my hands. A big, stupid idiot.

I forced myself to stay in the library, looking for books on the subject, trying to form some sort of foundation for my thesis to have a strong footing on. “The Ethical Slut,” “Sex at Dawn,” and “Stranger in a Strange Land” were some of the books I managed to find, and I was surprised I found them to be honest. I didn’t think that we had that many books on the subject. I wrote what I could on them before eight that night, opting to check them out rather than leaving them in the library.

I hugged the three books tightly to me as I attempted to wrangle my key out of my pocket, my eyes staring straight ahead.

“Vivian?”

I froze in place, my hand still in my pocket. Dammit, Alex. I closed my eyes and did a quick count to three before I turned around. Both of them were standing in the doorway of their room, watching me curiously.

I tried to smile. “Hey, guys.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, finally getting my key out of my pocket. “I was just in the library. Dr. Lee…he, uh, shot down my thesis idea.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, Viv,” Lafayette said consolingly. He came over to me and took my key, helping me to jimmy open the door.

Alexander was a bit more pissed than Laf. “Are you shitting me? Lee is a dumbass, and half the school is waiting for him to get fired!”

“He has tenure,” I reminded him quietly. Laf held the door open for me, and for Alexander, too, because of course they would come into my room so easily. I set the books on my desk and set my backpack on the chair.

“Like you said, Alex, death was a bad idea,” I said. I kicked off my shoes and hoisted myself up onto the pushed-together beds.

“I didn’t mean to jinx you, Viv.”

“So, what are you going to do now, _mon chou_?” Lafayette asked me, coming up onto the bed to sit next to me. Alexander followed suit, sitting on my other side.

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking about doing my thesis on polyamory.” It all came out quickly, the words flowing out so fast that I had no time to pick them back up again. “I don’t really know what about that specifically yet, but I know that there isn’t a lot of research on it, so I was hoping to add more to it.”

There was silence for a moment. Then, Alex asked me cautiously, “Where did you get that idea, Viv?”

“Dr. Washington’s class,” I said. “We are doing a section on polygamy and things like that, and I was trying to get ideas for a new thesis proposal.”

I reached back and grabbed the laptop that was sitting on my pillow, wanting to get started before I continued to ridicule myself for thinking of something so ridiculous to do. The guys were silent as I typed in my password, waiting for my laptop to power up. I tried to ignore the quiet murmuring in French that seemed to surround me. That lasted about a minute before I lifted my head.

“I am right here, guys,” I announced, looking between the two of them.

“Apologies,” Laf murmured. He and Alex shared a long look before Laf nodded at his boyfriend.

I started up Word and tried to calm the pounding in my heart. I wondered if they could hear it over the clacking of my fingers on the keyboard.

            Did I want this, did I want this? Did I want them? I didn’t know if I was ready to admit anything to myself yet. Did they want me? I was afraid to ask them, but I guess Alex wasn’t afraid to ask me.

“Have you ever been satisfied, Vivian?” Alex asked me casually. “In any of your encounters were you ever satisfied?”

            I shrugged wordlessly, continuing to type out the outline of my new thesis proposal on my laptop. The sharp clicking punctuated the silence in my small dorm room.

            “Viv,” Alex said warningly.

            My fingers stilled on the keyboard and Lafayette took the opportunity to reach across and take my laptop away from me. He set it down on my desk carefully before turning back to me.

            “No.”

            “No what?”

            “No, I have never been satisfied,” I said in exasperation. “Are you happy now? I’m never satisfied by them, but they serve their purpose.”

            “We aren’t happy about that, no,” Laf admitted, resting his hand on my leg. “We want you to be satisfied.”

            “It’s not a big deal,” I protested, my hands gripped together tightly in my lap.

            “It is to us,” the boys both responded in sync.

            “But it’s not to me.” I moved to the edge of the bed, sliding off and standing up slowly. My legs ached after I had left them out for so long. “And I’m the voice who counts in this situation.”

            “We were just trying to help-” Laf tried.

            “And what the hell does it matter anyways?” I continued, turning to glare at the both of them still sitting on top of my bed. “Why is my sex life any of your business?”

            “We care about you, Vivian,” Alexander said forcefully, coming off the bed to stand toe-to-toe with me. His arms crossed as he glared down at me. “Dammit, we are watching you go down a bad path and-”

            “This is not a bad path, Alex.”

            “Having sex with multiple guys and not caring if they wear condoms? That’s fucked up, Vivian.”

            “So, what, Alexander? It’s not your fucking business!”

            “Vivian, enough,” Lafayette spoke slowly. He, too, came down to stand on the floor, his full six-foot height towering over Alex and me.

            I clamped my mouth closed and folded my arms over my chest. I looked down at my bare feet as the Frenchman approached.

            “Let someone care about you,” Laf said. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you think you deserve to have someone care about you?”

            “I-”

            I stopped, my eyes widening. I didn’t know honestly. I had been taking care of myself for so long since my mother had been in her never-ending string of relationships and had kind of left me behind at home. Alexander and Lafayette were my friends; of course, they cared about me. I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head, however, that they meant the word “care” in a more intimate relationship kind of way. They couldn’t have that with me, they already had it with one another. I would just drag that down to the depths of the ocean I was slowly drowning in.

            A hand under my chin brought me back, centering me. I looked up, noticing them staring at me worriedly. My eyes stung as a tear slipped out, trailing down my cheek. I licked it away as it touched the corner of my mouth.

            “I don’t know.”

            “Aw, Viv,” Alex murmured, uncrossing his arms. He came closer and pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me gently.

            Laf moved his hand from my shoulder to my upper back. He rubbed soothing circles right in between my shoulder blades, his touch soothing and gentle.

            “You deserve that, _mon chou_ ,” he said close to my ear. “You deserve that and so much more.”

            I was stubborn, admittedly. I didn’t need that for myself. I just needed to rely on myself more, maybe try to take a little extra care of myself. I knew in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t though. I didn’t want to feel that way I did with Laf and Alex, I didn’t want to melt against them, to have them hold me against them. I didn’t want to feel as grounded as I did in that moment, to feel their bodies against mine, their heartbeats in comparison to my own, their breath in my ears, lips on my skin, tongue in my mouth…

            Woah, girl, I thought. Take it easy. You don’t even know if this is anything more than brotherly love.

            I didn’t want more than that. I couldn’t want more than that.

            I didn’t let myself melt, but I did allow myself to relax marginally against Alex and to hold my arms loosely around his waist. Lafayette’s hand was still on my back.

            “We can take care of you, Vivian,” Alex said, pulling back slightly to look at me. “We would take good care of you, you have to know that.”

            “I know,” I whispered, rubbing my eyes with one hand. “But, I’m not asking you to.”

            “We’re offering,” Laf coaxed.

            “But…”

            “Hush,” he murmured. His free hand cupped my chin and he pressed his thumb lightly against my lips. “We are not asking for an answer now-”

            “Now would be nice though,” Alex interrupted his boyfriend smoothly.

            Lafayette rolled his eyes, shaking his head at him. “As I was saying, we don’t need an answer now. We want you to think about it.”

            I hesitated for a moment before I let out a breath, nodding slowly. “Okay. Okay, I will think on it.”

            He smiled and stroked my cheek lightly.

            “Good girl.”

            I pressed my cheek into his hand, giving him a small smile. The look that passed between him and Alexander did not go unnoticed by me, but I made no comment. Let them have their little boys club. I couldn’t be bothered at this point.

            I pulled back then, looking up at the two of them so close together. It felt…incomplete, unfinished, I don’t know. I stood there for a silent moment.

            “What is it?” Alexander asked me. He kept his hands to himself, something I was grateful for at that moment.

            “What is this?” I asked them frankly. I looked down, feeling slightly embarrassed for asking it.

            “What is what?” Lafayette asked in return.

            “What is this going to be?” I looked up at them worriedly. “What are we doing? What are we going to become? What is this, Laf?”

            I hadn’t noticed that I had started shaking until Laf reached up and rubbed my shoulders gently as Alex watched worriedly.

            “We don’t have to decide that now either,” he said, sending a pointed look in Alexander’s direction.

            “But I want to talk about it now,” I said.

            Alex chuckled. “Always so impatient, huh, Viv?”

            “Do you really want to wait to talk about this, Alex?”

            “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you guys think this is going. Should the conversation between the three of them go well or go poorly?

**Author's Note:**

> I reposted this and fixed what I didn't like. Comments are always welcome. Let me know what you think.


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